Hot for Teacher
by Mrs. Crocodile
Summary: When a high school teacher manages to kill a vampire without cutting off the head, Sam is suspicious. Dean is surprisingly less so. Spoilers through 9x23 - Do You Believe in Miracles
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the situations or characters of Supernatural. No money is being made off this story. Please do not sue me.

**Author's Note:** I have aggressively avoided promos for Season 10 and Deanmon, so I have no idea what I'm talking about with this story. I wanted to get it up before the new season, and I'm cutting it really close. At least it's started.

This is going to look like a Dean/OC story for a while, but I promise it's not really. Dean tends to flirt and hook up, and the Deanmon for this story is meant to be less angsty and more early seasons Dean. (I guess I picture him a little like Soulless!Sam, just not that concerned about things.) As for the title, it came after the plot, and when you get the chance to use a Van Halen song, you take it.

–

**Title:** Hot for Teacher

**Summary:** When a high school teacher manages to kill a vampire without cutting off the head, Sam is suspicious. Dean is surprisingly less so.

**Spoilers Through:** 9x23 - Do You Believe in Miracles

–

–

**Chapter 1**

With her frizzy brown hair and conservative dress, Camille Monroe wasn't really Dean's usual type. Still, Sam did not really think anything of it when his brother started laying on the charm by telling her that that is a _beautiful_ name. Dean had definitely done worse. And Sam? Sam wasn't sure he really knew Dean anymore anyway.

It was decided early on by Sam and Castiel that Dean needed to stay around positive influences. Left to his own devices, he might—scratch that, he would spend far too much of his time with Crowley. For his part, Dean had no problem continuing to fight the good fight with Sam, since he vehemently insisted that this whole demon thing hadn't really changed anything. This "it's no big deal" attitude was enough for Sam to know that the demon thing had changed a lot about Dean.

Sam now slept with an angel blade under his pillow, but that wasn't new. The only thing that was new was the thought that someday he would have to use it on his brother. He remembered years ago, when he was the one with the demon problem, when Dean had to either save him or kill him. And he remembered that Dean never gave up trying to save him. He wanted so badly to return the favor, but he wasn't sure how, wasn't sure if Dean could really be saved anymore.

All this pretending nothing was different led the Winchester boys to Atlanta where a vampire had been recently killed while attacking a high school history teacher. Normally, they wouldn't take much notice of another dead vamp, but this one had been killed with an ordinary kitchen knife to the chest. They checked at the morgue and found the little vampire teeth holes in the gums of a head that was still attached to its body. And now they were interviewing the history teacher who had pulled off this incredible feat.

Camille Monroe inspected their badges for a second. "I don't understand. I thought, I thought this was over. Why is the FBI involved?"

"We just need to be thorough," Sam said, taking back his badge.

"Don't worry; you're not in any trouble," Dean added reassuringly. "We're actually investigating the kid, this Robbie Landry."

Camille directed them to her couch. She took a seat in a chair diagonally across from it, but she didn't say anything.

Sam prompted her. "Can you tell us a little about what happened?"

"Well, I had Robbie as a student last year. He was a good kid, okay student, but, um, I guess something happened with him over the summer, because he dropped out and didn't come back for his senior year. I saw him one night in a not so nice part of the city, and he came up to talk to me. I kind of got the impression that he had a bit of a crush on me, which doesn't happen very often."

"Oh, come on," Dean interjected with a winning smile. "I bet it happens all the time."

She looked a little taken aback. "Uh, no, it doesn't. Anyway, I kind of shook it off, but then Robbie kept showing up places where I was. And that night, I guess he followed me home. He pushed inside and started babbling about how he wanted to be with me forever. I um, I tried to be polite, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He threw me to the ground right over there." She pointed behind herself. "And he was so strong, stronger than I would have expected, on top of me, talking about forever and saying I would understand soon. I managed to get away from him, toward the kitchen. I was able to get a knife, and . . ."

When she trailed off, Sam could tell there was something she wasn't saying. Something that hopefully would get to the root of how she was able to kill a vampire like she did. "Where did you get the knife?"

She did not understand the question. "From the knife block." She gestured in the direction of the kitchen, on the opposite side of the apartment from where she had been thrown to the ground.

Sam looked over at the block and saw that one of the larger knives was missing. "The police said they returned the knife when it was ruled self-defense."

Camille nodded. "I put it in a drawer. I-I mean, I killed someone with it. I'm not really going to be using it to cut up the chicken anymore." She grimaced at the thought.

Dean was just kind of staring at her, not helping at all. So Sam continued to take lead. "Can we see the knife?"

"Why?" Out of what was probably an average citizen's respect for law enforcement, she withdrew her question. "Or, I guess, yeah." She got up and led them to the kitchen.

She opened the lower drawer for Sam, but she did not pick up the knife. It matched the rest of the set perfectly. Sam picked it up, examined it from every angle, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Cursed object was starting to look like a stretch, and it hadn't been a great hypothesis to begin with. "Where did you get these knives?"

"The store," she said bewildered. "I don't know, Sears probably. It was a few years ago." She took a deep breath. "Why are you so interested in the knife? Was there something strange about the way he was killed?"

They might be getting somewhere. Sam countered with, "Do you think there was something strange about it?"

For a second it looked like she might say something, but then she shook her head. "It was self-defense. He was going to kill me."

"That wasn't the question."

"Look," Dean said. "You're honestly not in any trouble. You're the victim here; we know that. But if there was anything you wanted to tell us about Robbie or the knife, anything at all, we'll believe you."

Camille thought about that for longer than she should have needed to if everything was normal. "I picked it up and held it out. He wouldn't stop, so I stabbed him. It did what a knife would do in that situation." As she said this last part, it almost sounded as if she was trying to convince herself that was all there was to it.

Sam was not satisfied by this answer, but they weren't getting anywhere. "Do you mind if we take the knife?"

She stared at the knife like she wasn't sure. "Can you just tell me what you're looking for?"

Sam set the knife down on the counter. "Why don't you just tell us what we'll find?"

"Sam," Dean said in a warning tone. He turned back to Camille. "It's classified. But I'm going to give you my direct number." He put a slight emphasis on "direct," and wrote one of his cell numbers down on a notepad. "And you can just give me a call if you think of anything. In fact, feel free to call me for _any_ reason." He paused here, giving her the eyes to make sure his meaning was clear. Then he added, "We are going to have to take the knife though." He picked it up.

Camille stared down at the phone number for a second. "Uh, fine. Do whatever you need to do. It's just a knife."

They showed themselves out. As he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, Dean said, "What was that back there? Why were you so hard on her?"

Sam would have thought that was obvious. "Because she knows something."

Dean tossed the knife in the glove compartment. "No, she doesn't. She's just a woman who was attacked by a thing and got lucky."

"Got lucky?" Sam repeated incredulously. "No one in recorded history has been so lucky as to randomly kill a vampire with a kitchen knife to the chest. There's something more going on here, and it's either the teacher or it's the knife."

Dean reached a different conclusion than the one Same was thinking of. "Then it's the knife, because her story checks out."

And that was when Sam knew there was something wrong. Because Camille Monroe's story did not check out at all. "You didn't get the sense that she was hiding something?"

"No, not at all."

Sam was working a new theory. "Well, what about this kid suddenly becoming obsessed with her?"

"How is that her fault? This is what I'm talking about, Sammy. The woman was just attacked by a crazed ex-student and you're giving her the third degree."

Sam did not point out that Dean's behavior toward Ms. Monroe had not been much better. Given what she had allegedly gone through, he had been coming on pretty strong. "That's another thing. She seems remarkably well adjusted considering she killed a man last week."

"Okay " Dean responded with a laugh. "I don't know what the deal is with you and this woman, but let's just get back to the motel and check out this knife."

Sam was pretty sure he wasn't the one who had some deal with this woman, but he agreed with Dean's proposed course of action, so he just nodded along.

–

–

**Author's Note:** Plus, as far as Dean/OC-ness of this story goes, there's clearly something supernatural going on. But if you made it this far, you've obviously already given it a chance. So, thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The first thing the Winchesters did when they got back at the motel was check the knife for EMF. When the meter didn't spike, Sam set Dean to work researching the Bohmesser knife company for gruesome murders and recent events at manufacturing plants. In the meantime, Sam looked into Camille Monroe.

While Dean's research uncovered no hits, Sam's was very fruitful. "Did you know that since Camille started working at that school in 2009, there have been at least four unexplained disappearances of teachers and students?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam was starting to expect this reaction. "There were zero in the five years leading up to that."

Dean continued to refuse to consider that this teacher was not on the up and up. "So you think what, she's a serial killer?" he scoffed. "Did we meet the same Camille Monroe? Because I'm pretty sure she's the nicest, most mild-mannered woman in this town."

Monsters came in all shapes and sizes, but if Dean was in his right mind, he would already know that. Hell, he himself was a fairly innocuous looking monster. "You don't even know her, and she's already killed at least one person," Sam said slowly.

"In self defense, Sam."

"Okay, well, here's another thing; she claims she went to Penn State, but they have no record of her."

Sam thought that was pretty suspicious, but Dean apparently decided to ignore it. "So she made four people disappear, and then she leaves this guy bleeding on her floor and calls the cops? How does that figure?"

"Maybe she got in over her head because this one was a vampire." No, that still didn't explain how she killed him. "I've fought vampires, so have you. They're strong and they're fast. She said he was on top of her. How did she get away, get to the other side of the apartment, and get a knife without him taking her down again?"

Dean shrugged. "Adrenaline?"

"According to the coroner's report, she stabbed him overhanded." Sam thrust an imaginary knife down. "That's not exactly a defensive position."

"So what's your theory?"

He knew this would seem like it was coming out of thin air for Dean. "What if she's a siren?"

Dean gave him the you're-being-crazy look. "Based on what, one kid? And the last time I checked, sirens don't make people disappear, Sam."

Sam wouldn't be thinking this if it was just one kid. "But they do make them obsessed and oblivious to flaws or manipulations."

Dean smiled knowingly and nodded. "You're talking about me. I don't share your irrational suspicion, so I must be under her siren song. I think I would remember swapping saliva with her."

"Good point," Sam admitted. There was a lot about this siren theory that did not fit. "But why is it you're so quick to point out the holes in my theory, but you refuse to see the holes in her story?"

"Because there aren't any holes." Dean sound exasperated, the way Sam felt. He stood and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair. "Tell you what, you have so many questions, why don't we just go back and ask her?"

Sam closed down his computer. "That's a great idea." Sam had other questions he hadn't even brought up yet. "But did you just suggest that because you wanted to see her again?"

Dean responded with, "Bite me." Not exactly a denial.

–

Camille was sitting at her kitchen table, ostensibly working on her computer. In reality, she was staring at the number that FBI agent had given her. She didn't really have any work to do anyway. After she killed that former student, she was placed on an administrative suspension pending counseling. She had already done one session where the therapist diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder, which apparently explained all of her strange affects. She wondered what the diagnosis would have been if she told the truth.

Those FBI agents knew something was off in a way the police just hadn't. She held the number up in front of her face and wondered if they had been doing some kind of good cop/bad cop routine. Or flirty cop/bad cop. That was kind of the only explanation for someone that attractive coming onto her like that, if that was even what he was doing. She knew that she was no great beauty, and she was okay with that. She was fine playing in her league, but this Agent Anthony was way, way out of it. And he was a federal agent investigating her.

Whatever else was going on the night she killed Robbie, it had ultimately been self-defense. She kept coming back to that. Maybe if she just explained everything to the nicer FBI agent, he would see that. Or maybe that's what he wanted her to think when he wrote down this number. She tossed the notepad on the table.

Suddenly and with no warning, the door to her apartment was kicked in. As she reflexively ducked her head, her first thought was cops. They figured something out from the knife and sent a SWAT team.

A male voice spoke up. "We just wanted to see the bitch who got our brother so obsessed he-"

Camille lifted her head. Those weren't cops, which was probably worse for her. There were two people standing in her living room, a man and a woman. It was odd because she was pretty sure Robbie had been an only child, and neither of them looked anything like him.

When he saw her face, the man stopped talking. Camille took this as an opportunity to say something. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I honestly, I-I didn't have a choice." Ugh, that was a horrible thing to say to his family. His scary looking family who had just busted into her place. She stood up. "I mean I know that there is always a choice, but-"

"You did what you had to," the woman finished with no discernible trace of sarcasm. She looked at the man. "I get it now. She's perfect."

"What?" Camille took a step back. "For what?"

"Robbie must not have explained it well enough." The woman began her approach. "We just want you to be a part of our family."

For every step the woman took toward her, Camille took another back until she realized she had backed herself into a corner. No knives or anything else within reach. "I'm good."

"But you could be so much better." The woman smiled, baring long, thin, sharp teeth.

–

As Sam and Dean were pulling up to the apartment, it was obvious that something was wrong. Sam had brought Camille's knife with him because she only really got rattled when they were talking about that, but he had been thinking he might leave it in the car anyway. At the sight of her door standing wide open, he grabbed up the knife and ran for the apartment with Dean right behind him.

They came in to see a female vampire smearing her own blood over Camille's mouth. Camille pushed her away, hard enough that the vampire fell backwards. Part of Sam wanted to wait and see how this played out. But if he was wrong about Camille, that would get her killed. Of course, with that vampire blood all over her face, it was probably too late for her anyway.

Dean had already jumped in, slicing off the head of the male vampire with the first blade. He carried that damn thing with him everywhere nowadays.

Sam looked at the knife in his hand. It was neither big enough nor sharp enough to take off a head in one swipe, and he wanted to test it out anyway. He went for the female vampire, who was still on the ground. Feeling stupid and reckless, he stabbed her in the chest with Camille's knife. No effect. The vampire knocked him aside easily.

In the time it took Sam to roll over, Dean was on top of the vampire, hacking and slashing with the blade. She was down, screaming; he had a clean shot at the head, but he just kept cutting and stabbing her. He was brutal when he fought these days. There were times when he seemed just like the brother Sam had always known, and then there were times like this where there was a rage in him that scared Sam. A rage that started with the mark, before he was a demon. The difference was that now he seemed to enjoy himself as he savagely rip things apart, more like a snarling animal than a man.

The woman's screams turned to pleas, but not for herself. "Just please don't hurt her!"

This caught Sam's attention. "What is she?"

The vampire turned her head to look at him. Her face was surprisingly serene considering that she was being tortured. "Perfect."

Dean pressed the blade to her neck and let it sink in slowly, savoring the decapitation. Then he popped up to his feet like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, back to just being Sam's hunter brother.

Throughout the fight, Camille had been on her hands and knees spitting out vampire blood. Sam was not sure how much of the fight she had actually seen, but she raised her head now to survey the carnage. Two bodies, one badly mutilated, and separately, two heads. She brought her hand to her mouth like she was going to be sick. "Oh, my god."

Dean nodded. "Vampires. Cutting the head off's the only way to kill 'em."

Camille lowered her hand. "Vampires?" She got up to her feet. "Yeah, that would explain a lot of the odder details. Please excuse me while I wash _vampire_ blood out of my mouth." She stepped over a body and walked past the Winchesters to get to the kitchen. "I guess the main issue I'm having is the part where vampires are real."

Dean decided to fill her in. "It's all real. Vampires, ghosts, ghouls, angels, demons, werewolves . . ." Dean continued listing things.

Sam watched Camille's face to see if she had a reaction to anything on the fairly comprehensive list, but she didn't. He pulled a flask of holy water out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Rinse your mouth out with this. It'll help."

Camille took a swig, swished it around in her mouth, and spit it out in the sink with no apparent pain. Dean leaned in close to Sam and lowered his voice. "What was that supposed to prove?"

"That she's not a demon." Sam never really thought she was, but now it was settled. One down, everything else to go.

"Well, I am. So how long've you been carrying that around with you?"

For a majority of the last ten years, holy water or a rosary for making holy water had been pretty standard accessories. They hadn't seen many demons since this whole thing started—Sam had been purposely keeping Dean away from them when possible—but Sam was starting to wonder how this new Dean actually felt about ganking demons. "It's just part of the job."

At this point, Camille had rinsed her mouth out with holy water three or four times. She brought the flask back over to Sam, halting the conversation. "So, um, she said I was going to be part of the family and then she shoved her blood in my mouth." She let the obvious question linger. "But I didn't die. Don't you have to die to become a vampire?"

Dean fielded this one too. "No," he said somberly. "But we're going to figure something out."

She took a deep breath. "Something other than cutting off my head?"

"Definitely some other than that."

Sam did not weigh in on this. "We need to do something about the bodies." He gestured for Dean to come back to the living room with him.

Camille blanched. "I'm just going to wait over here. I don't really want to see that again."

Sam was not fully comfortable leaving her alone, but he went with Dean into the other room. Dean had apparently forgotten about the holy water in Sam's pocket, or he had more pressing concerns. "What about the cure?" he asked keeping his voice down. "The one Samuel gave me. Do you remember what was in it?"

That wasn't the clearest time period for Sam, but he could maybe replicate the cure. He did not know if it required the vampire who turned Camille to still be alive, but her blood was currently soaking into the carpet. "I wouldn't worry about the cure."

"Look, I know you don't like her, but we are not just going to let this woman turn into a vampire."

There was a lot of the old Dean in that statement, the one who put such a premium on saving people. "I mean that I wouldn't worry about it because she's not going to turn into a vampire. She's already something else."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, if you don't mind I'm going to keep working on plan b."

Sam had resigned himself to the fact that he would not be able to convince Dean there was anything off about this woman. At least not until he knew what she was. "Dean, if she was turning, there would be signs by now. She'd be complaining about the kitchen light. She'd be able to hear us." That was assuming she couldn't hear them anyway. "We agreed that it was either the knife or the teacher, and the knife didn't work."

Dean shook his head. "Let's just focus on the bodies." He looked down, thinking through next steps. "I'm going to get a tarp from the car. Don't kill her," he added as he headed out the door.

–


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: ** So Demon!Dean was way more depressing and short-lived than I expected. I was emotionally compromised for a while. Also, Camille might be a Mary Sue. A lot of the hiatus on this was figuring out how to minimize that. (I know where I'm going, and I'm just worrying about it. Probably depends on your definition of a Mary Sue. Wait for more information before deciding.)

–

**Chapter 3**

Sam had a moment alone with Camille, and he decided not to waste it. He went back into the kitchen to talk with her, trying to think of the most important question to ask. She was rooting through her cabinet. He decided to just cut to the heart of the matter. "What are you?"

"I'm a teacher." With her back still to him, she paused and then nodded. "You know that." She continued rifling through her herbs shelf. "I could've sworn I had something with garlic in here," she murmured.

She had neatly deflected the question. Sam tried a different approach. "That vampire said you were perfect. Do you know what she meant by that?"

Camille turned to face him and shrugged. She bit her lip, and reluctantly answered. "I think she meant a perfect vampire. In hindsight, that's probably what Robbie was saying too. But I don't know why they thought that. Or is—is that a thing?"

Sam supposed vampires probably had some kind of criteria for choosing who to turn, but this was way outside the norm. It did put a different spin on the mystery of Camille, but he quickly rejected any vampire specific theories. They wouldn't explain why Dean was ignoring her sketchiness. He sighed. "Possibly." By this time, Dean was back with the tarp. "I should help him," Sam said.

Camille peeked her head around the wall that separated that part of the living room from the kitchen. "Shouldn't you call for back-up or like a CSI crew?"

Dean grinned sheepishly. "We're not actually FBI."

Sam finished for him. "We're hunters." He watched to see if Camille reacted to the word. But if she was a thing, she'd probably already figured all of this out. If she was a thing, he thought, she was the best actress he had ever seen.

"Hunters? Like you hunt vampires?"

"Among other things." This time, maybe for the first time, Sam hadn't said it to test her reaction. He was getting pretty tired of second guessing her every move. "I think you know more than you're letting on."

Dean protested. "Sam, leave her alone."

Sam ignored him. "Penn State has no record of any Camille Monroe attending that school in the last 40 years." That brought up the question of whether she was the Camille Monroe who graduated in 1972, but Sam did not even know where to fit that into a theory.

"Well, I did," she said, at a loss. "I definitely graduated from there. Class of '05."

"Then prove it. What classes did you take? Who were your professors? Who would remember you?"

Camille got defensive. "I don't have to prove anything to you! You're not even FBI. And what does my college have to do with anything?"

Dean put himself between them, facing Sam. "Why don't you take the first body out?"

"I'm not leaving you alone with her," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"I'm a big boy, Sammy. I can take care of myself."

"We don't even know what she is. She killed a vampire with a knife to the chest." Behind Dean, Sam saw Camille make an "o" with her mouth. Something had occurred to her.

Dean patted his hip. "And I have the first blade. I'll be fine." He gently pushed Sam away.

Once Sam was out the door with a vampire slung over his shoulder, Camille spoke up again. "He's right; I do know something."

Dean turned to her. He realized Sam had a point at least about one thing; this was the first time he was actually alone with Camille. He had no real desire to spend this time talking about a few dead vampires, but she sounded so earnest. "What?"

Camille bit her lip. Dean had noticed that she did that when she was nervous. It was pretty adorable. "This is about the knife, right? I . . . kind of did something to it."

Dean was sure, as he had always been sure, that Camille did not do anything wrong. He thought about what Sam had said, it was the knife or it was the teacher, and the knife didn't work. That made sense, but he still just couldn't believe this woman was anything more than she appeared. "What did you do?" he asked without any trace of suspicion. Because really, what could she have possibly done?

She took a deep breath. "You said there were witches, right? I think I might've put a spell in it."

"You think?" he repeated.

"Right before I stabbed him, I said . . . something. I don't really know what it was; I don't think I could repeat it. But the knife, it glowed."

"You can't just accidentally become a witch." Especially not one powerful enough to put that kind of whammy on a knife. "It's not something you manifest like Harry Potter. It has to be developed."

Camille seemed disappointed. "Then why did the knife glow?"

"I don't know." That should bother Dean, but it just didn't seem that important. Whatever it was, it wasn't Camille's fault. And all she did was kill a vampire, so no big loss anyway. "We can run that by Sam when he gets back."

She wasn't thrilled with that idea. "Sam hates me. Unless," She looked a little hopeful. "Unless that's just a tactic. Like a good cop/bad cop thing."

Dean smiled. "We're not cops."

Her face fell. "So Sam really just hates me."

"Sam . . ." Dean wasn't really sure what Sam's problem was. "Sammy's just the suspicious type."

"Or she's just suspicious." And there was Sammy now.

Dean sighed. "There was something with the knife. Tell him what you told me."

Camille repeated her story, which clearly just made Sam all the more suspicious. "You said something? What did you say?"

"I don't know. It just came to me."

Sam turned to Dean. "An incantation 'just came to her?' That's not normal. You have to see that."

Dean could recognize that it was out of the ordinary, but that did not make Camille some kind of monster. "Or it means it was the knife after all, and you just weren't using it right. Maybe she didn't do something to the knife; maybe the knife did something to her."

Camille snapped her fingers like that had triggered something. "I did feel, like, a surge of something when I grabbed it."

Sam laughed. "Now you're just feeding her explanations."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why are you being like this? Camille's the victim here. What has she ever done to make you—"

Sam did not need him to finish the question. "She drank vampire blood and didn't turn."

"Okay," Camille interjected. "So, I'm definitely not going to become a vampire?"

It sounded like this was something that had really concerned her. Sam shook his head. "If you were, you'd already be going for his neck."

"Maybe the holy water worked." Even Dean seemed skeptical, and it was his own theory. "Who knows? Has anyone ever tried it before?"

Sam was sure that somewhere someone had tried holy water, and if it had worked, they would know about it. But he couldn't point to a specific instance. And he couldn't say it had ever been tried immediately after the ingestion of blood, before the transformation even had time to begin. He was still convinced that this meant Camille was not human, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to convince Dean. Yet.

"Look," Dean said. "I still think our best bet is with the knife. So what now? It's research time, right?"

Right, the mystery incantation. "We don't even know what she said. How are we going to research that? Besides, I think it's dispose of the bodies time."

Dean nodded and then he pretended like something had just occurred to him. "Oh, but someone should stay with Camille."

It wasn't the first time Dean suggested he stay behind with the damsel in distress, far from it, but it was the first time Sam was concerned about it. "Why?"

"Well, first of all, there's apparently a group of vampires out there that's obsessed with her. Plus, you don't trust her. So, I'll stay behind, clean up the bloodstains, and keep an eye on her."

Sam looked at Camille, who was still standing right there, listening to every word. Not even a flicker of triumph or satisfaction. Dean had a point about needing to have someone keep an eye on her; the problem was Sam couldn't trust Dean's eyes right now.

He was going to suggest they bring her back to the motel with them, but Dean leaned in and made another fairly good point in a lowered voice. "I have a better rapport with her. She only told me about the spell or whatever after you left. I might be able to get her to open up more."

Sam half laughed, half scoffed. He had no doubt Dean would try to get her to "open up" with him. He thought about the first blade tucked in Dean's waistband. Sam really did need to do some research, and maybe that would be more fruitful without Dean there naively believing the best about Camille. It would definitely go better if Dean could get even a word of that incantation out of her. He lowered his voice too. "She's not perfect. She's either just a human or she's something worse. Promise you'll remember that. And find out more about the knife." He patted Dean's shoulder. "I'll be back soon."


End file.
